It's Who We Are (One-Shot)
by OlicitySmoaky
Summary: A variation of episode 4x19 and what happens between Oliver and Felicity before, during and after Laurel's funeral. Felicity's POV. Posted at AO3 April 14th.
_It's what we do. It's who we are._

Breathing hurt. Blinking despised her. Thinking, something Felicity did with both ease and complication, ached tonight. She sat with her fingers clutching the bowl of her wine glass beside a half-empty bottle of cabernet sauvignon. The course the blood-colored liquid fired down her throat gave way to delicious relief by her second glass. She faced the twinkling lights of Star City from the penthouse floor of Palmer Tech—her new home. About a month ago, when she'd walked away from the love of her life after he'd shattered her heart with mistrust, she'd decided this would be her spot for the duration.

 _Buzz_. Her cellphone vibrated on the glass table that held only it and her bottle. Felicity felt guilty, drinking like she was. Drinking had gripped Laurel and strangled her spirit for a time, but she'd beaten it. But what good had it done? Now, she was— her phone buzzed again. Panic she'd nearly forgotten to have seized her heart. It could be Oliver or John. She snapped up the black device and found a name shining across the screen— _Thea Queen_. She swiped to the right expertly.

 _Felicity, how ya doin', sunshine?_

 _I'm doing okay,_ she typed. An utter lie.

 _I don't want to bother you, but Ollie needs you. He's real bad. I don't know what to do._

 _Just sit with him. He'll be fine._ Was her answer even though her instincts told her the opposite.

 _He needs you, Felicity._

Hot tears slipped down her cheeks. Her already heavy heart caved in and twisted. Of course, he needed her. She needed him.

Thea explained he'd asked to go back to the loft so he could sleep in their room. He hadn't been there in weeks as far as Felicity knew. She wondered why he'd return to a place that might cause him more pain.

 _I'm on my way._

Felicity doubted her choice as soon as she slipped into the back seat of the taxi. No matter what had happened, she and Oliver weren't together any more. He needed to learn to cope with these types of situations without her. And she without him. But Laurel was dead. _Laurel was dead._ The reality continued punching her in the gut over and over. Laurel was someone Oliver once loved, someone he'd known practically his whole life, someone who was her friend. More than that even, she was a part of their team, their family.

Just as her taxi pulled in front of the complex, lightning pain bolted through Felicity's legs. She cried out.

"Miss. You all right?" the pale dark-haired driver asked.

She nodded, but the pain returned tenfold. "Ahh!" She sucked in her breath. One-two-three. It hit her again. "No. I'm not okay." She looked out of the window at her old home. Oliver was inside, in pain. The cold yet hot knife-like sensation took over.

"Miss?"

"Take me to Starling General." She pulled out her phone and hit call. "Thea, I'm sorry. I won't be able to make it."

"Felicity, what's wrong?" Thea's voice hitched high on alarm.

"Just give him a sedative, then honey and hot water with a little lemon," she said, shoving down her pain. "Try to get him to sleep. I—I have to go." She hung up, slamming her eyes shut. She called Paul. No one else.

Of course, both he and Curtis arrived, alongside her doctor. Her trusted experts assured Felicity that the pain was not permanent, merely caused by stress and her healing process. She was nevertheless asked to stay overnight for observation. In the morning, she awoke to news alerts about Laurel's death and the escape of Damien Darhk. She resisted the urge to check on Oliver as her mother picked her up.

"Oh, honey, why didn't you call me last night?" Donna chattered on. "This is why you and Oliver need to be together. This is no time to—"

"Mom, please."

"Quentin is devastated. He won't answer my calls. Thea said she got hold of Sara and that their mother is on her way from Central City today."

Felicity clocked this news in the haze of her numbness. Last night really had happened. Her mother was right. She did need Oliver. It wasn't right this distance. A surge of anger ripped through her body. _Darhk_. He'd done this—all of it.

The next days flew. The city handled Laurel's funeral arrangements. The assistant DA's mother, Dinah, arrived and leaned on Captain Lance in quiet devastation. While Donna Smoak, though there for the haunted man of the law, kept a polite distance. Sara flanked the crestfallen captain on his other side. Would the Lance family—already monumentally broken— recover from this? They'd seen so much darkness already. But hadn't they all?

Felicity, heart sodden with grief, gazed over the crowd. People she knew. People she did not. People from Laurel's public life. People from her secret one. Nyssa al Ghul stood not too far from Sara, after paying her respects to the woman she'd trained to be the Black Canary. John and Lyla stood stoically, clutching each other, while Felicity stuck closest to Thea, her newfound sister. She could never be anything but that after this. They were sisters by love, by loss, by experience, by utter-complication and, most-importantly, by purpose. At the end of the burial, Felicity spotted a man in a dark blue overcoat standing at the top of a not-so-distant grassy knoll. _Blondie._ A voice sang in her head. She knew him, as she would any member of the team built into her body and soul, by his stance and form. _Roy_. She turned to Thea, pointing the grieving young woman in his direction. Without a word, Thea left Felicity's side, stopping only to give her brother's hand a squeeze and his cheek a quick peck. Oliver stood cold and lifeless, staring at Laurel's grave. Felicity trembled, numb, as she watched the mourners return to their cars. Oliver locked still until, he reached for Felicity. She took his hand. He clutched her as if trying to drink life out of her while simultaneously pouring whatever he had to give back into her. It was love. It was promise. She stepped closer to him and she heard his breath hitch. He brought her knuckles to his lips for a beat then dropped them. But there remained, a cooler yet stronger version of what their connection had once been.

"I'll bring the car up. I'll wait."

He nodded once. Ten minutes later, Oliver pulled open the door to the limousine they shared. It was without question somehow in the midst of every bit of non-communication, that they would be together today along with the possibility of every day thereafter in some, way, shape or form. But working that out had to come later.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, pain and exhaustion radiating from him.

"Are you?" she asked, voice sharp above tears, cold above hot pain, focused on the man who'd caused this all, who'd tried to break them.

"No."

"You know what you have to do, right? You have to kill that son of a bitch."

Fury shook her core. Oliver kept himself at a distance. This was Darhk's fault. She knew that in the most twisted way of all, that Darhk was the only person to blame. Their comrade was dead. By the end of the limousine ride, they sat a bit closer to one another, but a wall that should not exist remained. There was an understanding deep inside Felicity that blamed Oliver for not telling her about William, something that had nothing to do with Darhk and all about his trust, but his fear of losing everyone close to him, hadn't Darhk, Zoom, and all manner of evil bad guys wreaking havoc on their lives been the cause of that? But Oliver had to fight past it. He had to trust himself and her. That fear was maybe why he'd wanted to stay in Ivy Town more than she did. He was too afraid of what the darkness would do to him, to their love.

Side-by-side, they stepped into the loft—the chosen venue for Laurel's wake. She wanted to be alone with Oliver more than anything, but, they were met with red-rimmed eyes and haunted faces. Felicity fell into the role of hostess without realizing it. Thea appeared halfway through the mourning reception, clutching Laurel's Black Canary mask. Roy nowhere to be found. She gave the mask to a stoic Sara. "We all loved her so much," Thea told her.

Sara nodded blankly then she left. Her parents left. Nyssa left. Donna left. Then there was Oliver, Diggle, Lyla, and Thea. The crowd thinned further. And then Thea left. Felicity was alone with Oliver.

He sat hunched over on the leather couch, staring into nothing.

"I'll go get you a blanket," Felicity told him. He smiled at her, the only smile she'd seen from him all day. His eyes clapped on hers, searching for peace, looking for hope. She cupped his left cheek, then kissed his forehead. "I'll be right back."

At the top of the stairs, she stopped at the entrance to their old room, then took a breath. She was home again, but it hurt so much. None of her things were there. Most of his were gone, too. She stepped inside the room. The bedding they'd left behind still draped the bed, and his favorite gray blanket lay curled at the foot. She picked it up, when a twist of pain curled up her legs. _Damn it._ She slumped down on the mattress, head in hand, to ride through her pain. She hadn't taken her medication. After about ten minutes, Oliver appeared at the door. "What's wrong?" his voice the opposite of calm.

"Can you bring me my purse?" she asked. "I left it in the guest bedroom in that locked drawer. I forgot to take my medicine."

He dashed out of the room and was back in moments with her purse and a glass of water. She accepted it gratefully. "Here's your blanket," she said, passing the soft material over to him.

"Thank you," he said, sitting next to her as she took her pills. "You cold?" he asked, gesturing to the blanket. She shivered a bit and nodded. "'Kay," he said, draping the wide blanket over both their shoulders. She clutched the far side of the warm cotton close as his left hand looped across her back and clutched her waist. She melted into his touch. "Are you okay?" he asked, eyes brimming with concern. After today of all days, how could he focus so intently on her like she was the only person in the world?

"I don't know if I can do this without you," she admitted softly.

"Do what?" he asked, his voice cracking.

She pushed down the thickness that had lumped in her throat. "Live."

He pulled her closer, their temples touching. Felicity turned and kissed Oliver's cheek, then settled back into him. After a moment, he picked up the prescription bottle she twirled in her hand and examined it. "This is new."

She moved her head away from his, not bothering to take the bottle back from him. It was an intrusion on his part on the surface, but she knew it like the air she breathed—she was his and he was hers. That would never change. "I had a relapse. Well, not really a relapse, but the night Laurel…" She cleared her throat and reset her words. "Thea called me to come help you, but my legs went crazy. I don't know what happened, but I had to go to the hospital and—"

"What?!" He jerked, causing the blanket to slip from both their shoulders down to their waists. His eyes fired with worry and panic.

"I'm fine, Oliver. See. I'm right here. The pain passes really quickly now. It was just that day that it was really bad. The stress, I guess."

"Why didn't you tell me? Tell Thea. Dig. Someone?" he asked, not placated in the slightest.

"Laurel had just died. I thought maybe you had other things on your mind."

"Don't you understand? You're my everything, Felicity. _My everything_ ," he said with low fervent conviction. "I can't… I guess I can't expect you to trust me anymore, but you have to know that I'll do anything for you. Be there for you no matter what," his voice cracked. He picked up her hand and pressed it to his lips. Tears slipped down his cheeks. His kiss was hot and full of everything Oliver.

"I know."

He placed her hand on his cheek. The stubble scratching her skin in the most delicious, life-affirming way. "I can't function like this."

"Like what?" she asked.

He dropped his hand. _Cold_ was the word she thought of as soon as he'd done it. She waited for him to continue, half-wanting to run, half-never wanting to leave again. "Without you," he confessed. "With lies between us, secrets." Before she could respond, he went on, "I know I'm the first and worst offender, but I also know how right you were. We…for Laurel, for this city, for ourselves, need to be in this together."

She nodded, head heavy with so much more than it could contain. "I know. I just…"

"Your heart isn't in it anymore?" he asked, his voice broken and despondent.

She shook her head. "That's not it, Oliver. Maybe it was. I was so hurt. You hurt me so much. We're a team, Oliver. And you didn't trust me. It scared me like nothing else. I just didn't know what was up and what was down anymore. But… If we can just— start again. It will take a lot of work, but— If you want to…"

His large rough hands slipped over each of her cheeks—her face warm in his hands. "Felicity, God, yes." He pulled her into a deep searing kiss. His mouth hot and so Oliver. Their tongues battled for reconnection, for home. Then—their clothes fell off, piece-by-piece. And soon, Felicity lay back on the bed that had been hers for so many months, the bed where she'd never felt more at peace even in the midst of tragedy. And she could feel her legs. She could feel every part of her ringing with life. "Is this okay?" Oliver asked, his voice soft and concerned. "Are you in pain?" She wasn't. Not from injury, but perhaps from want. She watched the rise and fall of his chest, her eyes slipping down over his hard planes, thick-and-ready cock, and his trembling hands as he lay beside her on one elbow.

"No," she whispered, lightly running her fingers along his jawline. "I'm good."

"You sure?"

She nodded and brought her lips to his. They kissed achingly, slowly. The moonlight slipped through Star City and into their room through the curtainless window. Oliver sat on his knees, staring down at her naked body, eyes raw and red but full of inexplicable awe. "My always," he said on a thick growl. His hands gripped each of her knees and parted her legs. As he climbed between them, and she lay there at her most exposed, she'd never felt safer. Oliver choked on a sob. "Felicity…"

"Oliver…I love you so much." Nothing could have been truer.

And they fell into each other—his hard heat sliding deep into her waiting wet walls. He took his time, pushing in then pulling out, eyes locked on hers, thumbs flicking gently across her face, behind her ears, over the slopes of her shoulders. Then his hands found her thin waist, gripping the juncture between it and her hips as his mouth hung open, his head fell back. His rapturous moans sank through her skin, firing into her core. "God, baby. I missed you so much," he whispered. She could feel the heat of his love vibrating from him as her own hands danced over the contours of his smooth hard chest. _Oliver_. He licked his lips, continuing to move above her, his pleasure coloring every part of his tense delicious body. She could feel him everywhere. It had been so long, so long since every part of her could sense him, feel him. His darkened blue eyes bore into her as his body continued to rock with hers. He looked at her with utter gratitude yet so much remorse. "I'm so…sorry," he choked out. "I love you, Felicity. Shit." His hips moved faster as his fingers slipped past her belly to pleasure her clit in purposeful circles. "You have to come with me. Please." His lips skated over her cheeks, her chin, her mouth before pressing firmly onto her forehead. Then she buried her face in his neck until she needed air again.

Emotion and raw pleasure seized her pores. Her ears attuned to the wet slapping sound of their bodies. This moment was familiar yet alien, her mind went wild. God. She thought she'd left this behind, left him behind. How could she? She homed in on the ache firing from her chest. It wasn't like anything she'd felt before. She was different now. Hurt more than she'd ever been, but more certain, more aware of herself and of him. Every sense she had climbed into her chest then radiated down to where their bodies met. "Oliver," she cried. She rolled her hips into his, seeking out not just release, but the consummation of their tomorrow. His hooded lids and short pants spurred on her insatiable need. Her brain filled—stark white, blinding. Nothing had ever felt so good, so right. Their cries shook every inch of the walls, every inch of each other and then Felicity chased her release, slapping her sensitive core against his pelvis.

"I can't…" he breathed. "Felicity."

And then she was falling over the edge, her sodden walls shuddering around Oliver's cock, milking him, giving him her love back. Then he roared like an unfettered beast, plunging into her again and again. Urging another climax out of Felicity. Their cries mingled. Her heart felt as if it would beat out of her chest. Then, after what seemed like a thousand and one blissful eternities, they lay spent. Oliver rolled over onto his back, still inside her. His hands touching her everywhere he could. "I can't live without you, Felicity. I need you so much."

"I need you, too, Oliver. We'll figure it out." She kissed both cheeks then his temple, before snuggling into his chest. His arms held her close. "We're a team."

His breath came out in a quiver but soon he was asleep and so was she—for the first time in weeks.

When Felicity woke up the next morning, her back, snuggled into Oliver's chest, she heard her phone buzz from the purse Oliver had brought up. She tried to move to reach it but Oliver's grip on her was tight. After about a minute, she managed to inch herself away to snap up the phone to check her text. It was Thea.

 _How ya doin', sunshine?_

 _We're doin' good._

 _We?_

 _Yes. We. We're gonna be okay._ Felicity waited a beat for Thea to reply, then—

 _I hope so. Take care of my brother. Love you._

 _Love you, too, sweetie._

Felicity put her phone back in her purse when it was clear Thea's checking in was complete.

"Who's that?" asked a groggy Oliver, pulling her back to him.

"Just Thea checking on us."

Oliver dropped a kiss in her hair. "I have something to tell you," he croaked out in the haze of sleep.

She moved so that her cheek rested on his chest. His hand dipped into her hair, massaging her scalp like he often used to do. Her chest fluttered, and she sighed. "What?"

"Just something Laurel told me that night," he said, his voice soft and hollow.

"Oliver," she said, sitting up a bit to look at him. "You don't have to if it was private—"

He shook his head, looking up at her. "No more secrets, remember?"

She leaned up to capture his lips. His tongue swept over hers, once then twice before she pulled back. "No more secrets," she affirmed. Then listened to what he had to share with her.

Today, they'd found their way back to each other, and tomorrow, they'd find Darhk. It was their job. Their responsibility—as a team. And they could do it, together.


End file.
